My social life soon expanded. I discovered that old friend and
fellow vet Mike Dunkum was on his second attempt at obtaining a college degree
at Fayetteville. His first attempt had been foiled by inertia. It seemed to
attack most fiercely at test time or when papers were due
A combination of academic failure and lust for adventure had
sent him to the Army recruiting office where he met a persuasive man named
Sergeant Goforth.
I’m not making this up.
The good Sergeant convinced Mike that the life of a Green Beret
officer was the thing, and so it happened.
After Vietnam, Captain Dunkum and other officers returning
from the war zone encountered some tough news from the Army. They were sent to
a hell-hole in Texas called Camp Hood and confronted with three army policies.
They couldn’t be promoted. They couldn’t stay in. They couldn’t get out until
their current time was up. In short, our country was through with them.
And that was among the better treatment afforded returning Vietnam
veterans.
Now, though, I found out that Mike was in Fayetteville and I
began to drive up on Saturdays after we knocked off work. The best time had was
staying up until midnight Saturdays and watching “Dr. Mazeppa Pompazoidi’s
Uncanny Film Festival and Camp Meeting.” It emanated from Tulsa, and starred a
young Gailard Sartain as Mazeppa and a young Gary Bussey as his sidekick Teddy
Jack Eddy.
It was best viewed with the aid of medicinal smoking aids.
Those were fun days, and I’m glad Mike had them. These days
there is a good chance that he suffers from the effects of Agent Orange. That’s
the last gift that General Westmorland, et al, left us, the gift that keeps on
giving.
Monday, it was back to work. The sins of my weekend, like so
many other previous sins, lay buried on the back streets of Fayetteville, far
from the view of my now more professional colleagues.
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